


My Son, My Moon, My Star... My Universe

by SweetSorcery



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Credence has no Siblings, Alternate Universe - No Gellert Grindelwald, Alternate Universe - No Obscurus, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Porn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Belonging, Blow Jobs, Bottom Credence Barebone, Bottom Original Percival Graves, Breakfast in Bed, Clothed Sex, Consensual Possession, Credence Barebone Crying During Sex, Credence Barebone Gets a Hug, Credence Barebone Heals, Credence Barebone Needs a Hug, Daddy Kink, Desperation, Dom/sub Undertones, Don’t copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father/Son Incest, Felching, First Kiss, First Meetings, First Time, First Time Topping, Forbidden Love, Forehead Kisses, Frottage, Guilt, Hand Jobs, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, Kissing, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Male Slash, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Neck Kissing, Overstimulation, Past Abuse, Percival Graves Crying During sex, Pining, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Original Percival Graves, Protective Credence Barebone, Protective Original Percival Graves, Protectiveness, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rimming, Romance, Romantic Gestures, Sappy, Sappy Ending, Slash, Slow Burn, Smitten Original Percival Graves, Switching, Teaching, Tenderness, Top Credence Barebone, Top Original Percival Graves, Topping from the Bottom, Touch-Starved, Touching, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Wandless Magic, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-19 05:35:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17595434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetSorcery/pseuds/SweetSorcery
Summary: Starting the day a stork makes a delivery at MACUSA headquarters, Percival Graves' lonely, loveless existence will never be the same again. But things are a little... complicated.





	1. My Son

**Author's Note:**

>   
> 

Percival Graves sat at his desk, staring disbelievingly at a letter which had been delivered that morning—by a method which had caused something of a furore in his department. 

It had come by stork post, of all things, which clearly marked it to all and sundry as relating to adoption or childcare. It had been forwarded by an agency handling both No-Maj and Magical adoptions and foster cases. Unfortunately, of all his underlings, it had been Abernathy—the worst gossip in the building—who had taken receipt of the letter. Percival grit his teeth. Damn Abernathy to Hades and back! He would find a way to dock his pay, if he should blabber to anyone who hadn't seen the damn bird with their own eyes, proudly flying in through the front doors of the building, as discreetly as if it was one of those dreadful No-Maj flying machines.

He took a deep breath and read the astonishing letter for the fifth time.

_Dear Mr Graves,_

_I found your name on my papers, after my foster mother died. I tried to find my birth mother too, but she's dead, as you probably know. The agency has agreed to send my letter to you, along with a copy of the papers. You probably want to check them._  
_I know we do not know each other, and there was probably a good reason you gave me up into foster care, but I have no home now and no family at all, aside from you. I don't want to be a burden, but I don't know where to go or what to do. Please, help me._

_Your son, Credence (Barebone)_

The handwriting was clearly legible but so faint, it was as if the pen had hardly touched the paper, and while some of the letters slanted left, some right, most balanced awkwardly upright. 

Percival subjected the paperwork to yet another examination as well. Yes, he'd had a brief fling with the witch listed as the boy's birth mother. It had been during his last year at Ilvermorny, before he'd realised women were _not_ for him, and her name stared up at him accusingly from the birth certificate.

It rankled that this boy, his son— _sweet Merlin_ —was assuming he had been the one to decide to release him into foster care. As if he would do such a thing! He had not, until that moment, known he had a son. He had never seen his mother again, and she had never contacted him—whether she'd assumed he wouldn't take responsibility for the fruit of their ill-advised liaison, or whether it had been her idea of a punishment for him, he'd apparently never know now.

The boy was 22, according to his date of birth, which fit the facts. At least he wasn't suddenly faced with the prospect of taking care of a screaming toddler. In fact, a young man of that age would probably require nothing of him except an occasional home base and some money to set out on his own. Possibly only the latter. He could provide those easily enough. He _would_ provide those, naturally, if the paperwork turned out to be genuine. He had a feeling it would; everything fitted, and he had been careless enough at the age of 17 to end up fathering a child.

He penned his response, to be sent to the address on the envelope: a church, of all things, in Pike Street.

_Dear Credence,_

_I was very surprised to receive your letter. Without going into detail by correspondence, I would like you to know for now that I was not aware I had a son. Naturally, now that I know of your existence, I wish to do what I can to make your life easier._

_Please meet me at Carson's Diner on the corner of Park Place and Canyon of Heroes, in Lower Manhattan, on Thursday evening at 6 p.m. Tell the owner that you're there to meet Mr Graves—he knows me, as I go there regularly; that way, we won't miss each other._

_Yours sincerely,_  
_Percival Graves_

He knew it was rather a formal letter, but he had no practice writing any other kind. He also imagined the boy would not appreciate warmth from a man he thought had once abandoned him. His jaw tightened at the mere idea.

He didn't know how hard it would be for Credence to make the appointment, nor when exactly he would receive the response, so he reluctantly gave him two days. It would give him time to contact the agency and verify the birth certificate was genuine.

* 👶 *

Thursday came at last.

For two days, Percival had been on tenterhooks and, more than once, contemplated crossing Manhattan to have a closer look at this church in hopes of sighting the boy. He didn't, in the end, thinking it unfair to stalk him in secret before meeting him properly.

The day stretched like gum, and Percival knew that checking the time every five minutes or so was unlikely to quieten the rumour mill, which had not stopped grinding since he'd received Credence's letter on Tuesday morning. He had repelled both subtle and not so subtle attempts to find out what the stork had delivered to him, and was more glad than ever to have arranged to meet the boy at a No-Maj diner at which his colleagues would turn up their noses; they certainly wouldn't expect him to go there.

Furthermore, at this point, he had no way of knowing whether his son was a Squib or not. The agency could only tell him he had been taken into foster care by a No-Maj—standard practice for _abandoned_ Magical children, apparently, to Percival's immense disgust—so to invite him to a Magical establishment, where he might only end up facing a blank wall on arrival, was pointless. The fact that Credence had sent his letter through the agency, rather than to him directly, also indicated his father's name meant nothing to him, so he clearly knew nothing of the Magical community. And if he had been in foster care with No-Majes... well, it would explain a lot.

He resolved to stop going over the matter in his mind while he was still remarkably short on facts, and instead rushed through the most urgent matters on his desk, setting everything else aside for the following week. He'd taken Friday off, as there would undoubtedly be many things to organise the following day.

When he sneaked out of the Woolworth building at 5:30 p.m., he did so by the most unlikely route possible, managing to avoid everyone except for a few elves cleaning and polishing the lesser used corridors and elevators.

He still arrived at Carson's twenty minutes early and went to see the chubby, somewhat gruff manager at the counter as soon as he entered.

"Mr Graves, long time no see. What can I get 'ya?"

Percival gave a brief smile of greeting. "Coffee, the usual way." When Carson mock-saluted him, he said, "I have an appointment here at 6 p.m. A young man will ask for me—"

Carson waved him off as if he was a fly. "He already did. Kid came in quarter of an hour ago and has been nursing a glass of ice water since. I'd have tossed him out for taking up space without ordering, but since he says he's come to meet you..."

Percival immediately let his eyes roam over the patrons. "Point him out to me? We've never met."

Carson chuckled. "That kid over in the corner, in the pork pie hat."

Percival's gaze followed the direction Carson pointed in and, true enough, he saw the back of a dark blue hat in the furthest booth from the door. "Thanks. Give us a few minutes, then come get his order, okay?"

"Sure thing, Mr Graves."

Percival approached the corner booth, noticing the boy was wearing a matching suit, which looked rather worn and thin, to go with his hat. It was an oddly childlike ensemble he could easily believe had been worn since he had actually been a child; the sleeves were a little too short, and he imagined the trouser legs would be too. He sat there tearing a napkin to shreds in pale, slim hands, clearly nervous. Not surprising, under the circumstances. When Percival came up alongside the table, he put on a reassuring smile.

"Credence?"

The boy jumped, turned his face up, and made to rise. "Mr Graves? Sir, I—" He stumbled over in his hurry to be polite and tumbled right back into his seat gracelessly.

Percival, struggling to regain his own composure after his first look at the boy's face, chuckled. "Yes, it's me. Calm down, there's no need to get up." After a brief squeeze of the boy's nearest shoulder, he slid into the seat opposite, somewhat relieved to sit down himself. 

"Thank you for coming, sir," Credence said, ducking his head shyly, not quite able to meet Percival's eyes properly, but not quite able to stop himself from quick, split-second glances.

"It's not every day I get a letter from a son I never knew I had." Percival knew he was staring at Credence as blatantly as the boy was avoiding his eyes. The brim of the hat overshadowed most of his face, but only served to emphasise his high cheekbones, moon pale skin, sharp jaw line and overly red, plush lips bitten raw with nervousness. He was a study in contrasts and, despite his deep voice, there was a real gentleness to him.

"I'm sorry it came as a shock to you, sir. I assumed you knew." 

"Well, I should have known, you're right. I'm afraid your mother never told me; we had a very brief relationship, and had not been in contact since. I had no idea she was dead either." Percival frowned. "Credence, will you look at me, please? It's awkward to have a conversation with your hat."

Credence immediately looked up and met his eyes. "I'm sorry." He quickly pulled off his hat. A fringe of soft black hair, cut into an unflattering bowl cut, tumbled around his forehead as he set the hat down beside himself on the bench.

Percival swallowed hard. He didn't remember the boy's mother being extraordinarily beautiful, nor did he consider himself the pinnacle of perfection. Yet somehow, they had managed to create this vision. "There's no need to apologise. I believe it's fair to say we're both a little nervous right now."

"Yes, sir," Credence said softly. "Thank you for understanding."

Percival looked into the dark eyes as steadily as he could. "I'm glad you decided to contact me, Credence."

"You... you are?"

In all honesty, Percival hadn't expected to be glad. To find himself suddenly, at the age of 40, the father of an adult son was not something he'd have chosen for himself. Yet the idea that he'd had a son all this time, knowing nothing of him, and had been no help to him in life, was far worse than to have a surprise of this magnitude sprung on him.

"Yes, I am." He smiled more benignly than any of his colleagues would think him capable of.

And Credence... Credence smiled back at him, and a sunrise over the Atlantic had nothing on the brilliance of that smile. The sweetness of it was beyond description altogether, and Percival could only stare at him, his heart clenching painfully. He barely made out the boy's next words.

"I'm so relieved, sir, I thought you would be angry to be burdened like this, with a stranger."

"You're anything but a stranger, Credence," he said softly. "We just hadn't met until today."

The boy looked very pleased at that, and Percival's smile broadened.

It was then that Carson turned up to bring Percival his coffee and take Credence's order. He peered with curiosity back and forth between them, then focused on Credence. "Okay, what can I get you, kid?"

Credence gulped. "I... may I have more water?"

Percival intercepted Carson before he could launch into a lecture at Credence and suggested, "How about a coffee? Or a glass of fruit juice?"

Credence's eyes widened. "Oh, I... I'm afraid I don't have—"

"Bring us an orange juice, a pineapple juice, and the dinner menu, Carson, will you? We're going to need something more substantial than drinks."

Pacified, Carson said, "Right away, Mr Graves," and shuffled off towards the counter.

"Sir," Credence said urgently, "I'm afraid I can't afford to eat in a restaurant, I only have—"

"Are you saying I can't buy my son dinner?" Percival asked with mock severity. The boy looked in dire need of regular decent meals, and he intended to ensure he would get them, starting right then.

"No, sir, I... thank you." Another smile, a tiny and shy one this time.

"And there's no need to call me 'sir'. You can call me Percival." He chuckled. "I'm sure you'd rather not start calling anyone 'father' or 'daddy' at your age."

Credence blushed. "I wouldn't mind, sir... I mean, Percival."

Percival stared at him. "You wouldn't."

"No, Percival."

"Ah." Percival cleared his throat and tugged at his tie, which suddenly felt too tightly knotted. "Well, I'm not sure I'd be comfortable with that." When Credence lowered his eyes, with either shame or disappointment, Percival quickly added, "for now. Maybe at a later point, once we've got to know each other better. How does that sound?"

"Thank you," Credence said flatly. "It sounds good."

It was clear he was disappointed, and didn't believe Percival, who regretted having to say 'no' to him at this point, but the idea of walking around with an extremely beautiful young man at his side who called him daddy was... uncomfortable. Yes, uncomfortable, that was it.

Feeling that he had something to make up to Credence, Percival said, "Obviously, I'd like to know how your life has been up to this point. We have so many years to catch up on. You mentioned your foster mother died recently, but we don't need to go into anything that makes you sad. I'd just like to know your situation right now and what I can do to help."

"I'm not really sad," Credence admitted. "She... didn't like me."

Percival frowned. "I hope she didn't treat you badly?"

Credence's eyes lowered immediately, and he fidgeted, the hands which had been shredding the napkin sliding off the table and into his lap. "How... how has _your_ life been, Percival?" he asked a little desperately. "Are you married? Do you have other children?"

"No," Percival said, dealing with the last two questions in one. "Credence, show me your hands." The dark eyes met his, and he gently insisted, "Show me, please."

Credence placed his hands—pale, long-fingered, and trembling—on the table top again, palms down, scraps of napkin still underneath them.

Percival reached out and covered them and, for a moment, the intensity of the magic he felt astonished him; the boy certainly was no squib. Collecting himself, he turned them over. They were cool and a little rough, but the trembling lessened under his touch. The palms, however, were a frightful sight, covered in welts and crisscrossing scars. He sucked in a breath.

"Credence!"

"They don't hurt. Not anymore," Credence said quickly.

"Some of these are very old, and some recent. When did the bitch die?"

Credence looked up at the loathing in Percival's voice. "Two... two weeks ago."

"How?" Percival asked, knowing he was probably confusing the boy.

"The roof of the church where we lived collapsed, right above her."

Percival nodded. "Good." He was aware Credence was looking at him in some shock and fought to control his anger. "I'm not really heartless, Credence, believe me. But I can't pity someone who has done this to you!"

Credence spoke so softly, it was nearly inaudible. "No one has ever cared what she did to me."

The depth of emotion in the boy's eyes, the astonishment at such basic kindness, told Percival volumes about the life he'd had so far. "From today on, no one will be allowed to hurt you, Credence, and that's a promise."

Credence's eyes were suspiciously bright when he said shakily, "Thank you, Percival."

Percival gave him a soft smile, lightly stroking the spaces between his thumbs and palms, where the welts were shallowest. He felt great relief at the tingle of suppressed magic he could feel, and he would heal what he could with magic as soon as he got his boy home. He desperately wanted to do it right away, but if Credence wasn't used to Magic, it would make their meeting even more complicated than it was.

Carson appeared with their drinks, looking pointedly down at Percival's hands gently cradling Credence's, and the boy hurriedly withdrew them and let them fall back in his lap.

"Look, fellas, I don't care personally, but that hand-holding stuff—" Carson started.

"Oh no, sir, it's not like that," Credence said, a little panicked, but he was silenced by a gentle shake of the head from Percival.

"Is there a problem?" Percival gave Carson a look of pure challenge. He was a regular in the place, but only out of habit and convenience when it came to avoiding his colleagues. Frankly, there were plenty of similar No-Maj establishments available nearby, and he intended to take Credence to Magical ones from then on in as it was. Meanwhile, he had no intention of explaining their situation or be held to some archaic No-Maj prejudice.

Carson backed down. "No problem, Mr Graves. I guess."

"Good. Then maybe we can order now."

Credence sat with his head down, his face and ears bright red.

Percival asked gently, "What would you like to eat, Credence?"

"I... I don't mind. Could you choose?"

Percival said, "Of course." He knew the menu off by heart. It never really changed. "We'll have a bowl of tomato soup each. I'll have the baked fish and a Caesar Salad, and bring Credence a Sirloin steak with jacket potato, sour cream and fried mushrooms. We'll decide about dessert later."

Credence stared at him. "Oh, that's too much!"

"Nonsense," Percival said, handing the menus back to Carson.

"All right. Won't be long, guys." Carson shuffled off.

"Percival, I can't eat that much." Credence looked in almost physical pain.

"You can have the fish, if you prefer but, either way, if it's too much, you can leave the rest. It's fine." Percival eyed the pale face and hollow cheeks. "I have a feeling you haven't been eating very regularly lately, and you could use a good meal. Am I right?"

Credence didn't want to say that regular food was something he'd never known, so he just nodded.

"Have one of these." Percival pushed both juice glasses towards him. "Whichever you prefer, I'm not picky."

Credence took a moment and went for the pineapple. "Thank you."

"Tell me, where have you been staying for the past two weeks?" Percival asked, before taking a sip of the orange juice.

"At the church," Credence said.

Staring at him in horror, Percival said, "Not the one with the collapsed roof?" When the boy nodded, he said, "That can't be safe."

"I have nowhere else to go."

'And no money,' Percival thought. The boy was in dire straits, not to mention he'd had a rough time for Merlin knew how long. Sending him on his way with a wallet full of cash had ceased to be an option from the moment he'd sat down here, but now he knew there was only one thing he could do.

"You do now," Percival said with determination. "You'll be living with me from now on." At Credence's expression of sheer disbelief, he quickly added, more reluctantly than he ever would have expected, "If that's okay with you, Credence, because obviously, if you'd rather I set you up with a place of your own—"

"No! Oh no, Percival, please, I... I would like to live with you." He added, more quietly, "I don't like to be alone."

Percival, despite always having considered himself of a solitary nature, felt relief. "Good. That's settled then."

"I don't want to be a burden," Credence said, clutching his fogged up glass of cold juice tightly; possibly from nerves, possibly because the chill felt good on his abused palm. "I can cook and clean for you. I'll do anything I can to help."

Percival shook his head. "Absolutely not. I'm not hiring you on as a cook or a maid. You're my son, Credence." It felt unexpectedly good to say that, Percival noted with surprise.

"I like when you call me that," Credence murmured. "You don't say it as if it's something hateful."

Just how much damage had that bitch of a foster mother done to him? Percival frowned. He would be looking into the practices and selection criteria of that Adoption Agency, first chance he got.

"Credence, your sudden appearance in my life might have been a surprise, but it's a very pleasant one." Percival found he meant that, more and more, with every passing moment.

Credence gave him another smile that would have melted ice, and Percival quickly picked up the orange juice and took a deep swallow, before it could turn watery.

By the time Carson had brought them dinner, and Percival was watching Credence nibble birdlike at every bite, even while his left hand was wrapped around the plate as if he was afraid it would be taken from him at any moment, they had talked about Credence's life at the church.

If it could be called a life. The irony that he had been made to hand out anti-witchcraft propaganda might have amused Percival, were it not for the many subtle clues in Credence's halting words about the maltreatments, the fanaticism, and the sheer hatred he must have suffered at the hands of that Barebone woman for years. As it was, what would have caused him ire on behalf of anyone else made him see red where it concerned his flesh and blood.

"First thing tomorrow, I'm going to file all the necessary paperwork to formally adopt you," Percival told a stunned looking Credence. "I don't want you to carry that surname any longer than can be avoided. I hope that's all right with you, Credence? Obviously, you're an adult, so the choice is all yours."

Credence nodded eagerly. "Please, yes. Will you give me your surname?"

"Certainly. It's the name that should have been yours since birth."

"Thank you, Percival." His voice sounded choked, and he lowered his eyes to stare at his plate of food as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world, blinking rapidly.

"Hey, none of that," Percival said as softly as he could. He reached across and raised Credence's face with his fingers under his chin. Tear-filled eyes met his and, when moisture started to trickle over one high cheekbone, he used his thumb to swipe it away tenderly.

It was strange, he thought, how easily he fell into the role of comforting father figure, especially considering Credence wasn't a child, didn't look or sound like a child, and he'd had a life so hard that he had probably never been allowed to be a child. But it was undeniable that the boy was in need of very gentle treatment, judging by his gratitude and the adoring look in his eyes.

It was an expression that played merry hell with Percival's heart, which was having a lot of trouble remembering the fact that this beautiful creature who looked at him as if he'd just promised him the world was his _son_ , and was to be treated like a son—not only with proper fatherly care, but also with a certain physical detachment.

"Percival?" Credence whispered, and the quiet tone of his voice jolted Percival from his mesmerised state more effectively than a shout might have done.

"I'm sorry," Percival murmured, reluctantly releasing the confused face. "I don't have any experience being a loving father." He wasn't sure why he'd said that, and there was an awkward pause.

"I have no experience being a son who is loved," Credence told him softly then.

 _Loved._ Well, he had started that kind of talk, hadn't he?

"Then we'll muddle through together and figure out how it all works best for us, what do you say?" Percival suggested more lightly than he felt. 

Credence smiled gently and nodded his agreement.

Percival had a feeling loving Credence would prove to be the easiest part of this strange new life. What worried him was that it might turn out to be too easy.


	2. My Moon

After sharing a piece of cherry pie—Credence claimed to be unable to finish a whole dessert on his own—they stood and left the diner, with Percival paying on their way out.

It was dark by then, and a lot cooler, and the wind caught and whistled between the skyscrapers. Credence shivered in his thin suit, and Percival removed his coat and wrapped it around the boy's shoulders.

Credence protested. "Oh, I couldn't! You'll be cold."

"I won't be, and I insist. I'm probably wearing twice as many layers as you are." 'And each one of them is charmed to keep me warm,' thought Percival. Giving the boy an encouraging smile, Percival helped him get his arms into the sleeves, then squeezed his shoulders once that was done.

"Thank you." Credence smiled, sighing when the thick, smooth wool enclosed him. He turned his face into the collar and took a deep breath, then straightened out with a contented look on his face.

Percival tried not to notice the boy bonding with his scent. He tried hard. "You're actually taller than I am," he noted absently. When Credence looked ready to apologise for that, as he did for most things, Percival chuckled. "That's perfectly fine, by the way, I just happened to notice."

"I'm not taller by much," Credence said anyway.

"No." Percival smiled at him. And then he finally remembered something rather essential that had all but slipped his mind during the meal. He needed to get them home and, while he was happy to lessen the shock by taking a No-Maj taxi, they would still need to enter a magical penthouse within a magical apartment block.

"Do you need to get anything from your old place?" he asked.

"No, I don't own anything important. I sold the few things worth selling, and what little money there was is in my pocket."

"Nothing personal at all?" Percival asked, sad on Credence's behalf.

Credence shook his head. "To horde personal possessions is sinful. At least... it's what ma... my foster mother used to say."

"That should tell you what utter nonsense it is," Percival stated firmly. "There's nothing wrong with being attached to things which..." He meant to say 'hold pleasant memories', but Credence clearly had none of those. Not yet. He decided right then and there to change that. Meanwhile, he scrambled for another finish to his statement, "... things which give you joy."

Credence looked at him as if he was a very strange person indeed.

Percival was beginning to think he might be. "Let's walk for a bit, shall we? "

"Okay," Credence said. "Are you sure you don't want your coat back, Percival?"

"I'm absolutely sure."

They crossed the road to City Hall Park and strolled towards the fountain. It was lit up prettily in the dark, by the ornate groups of lights at its corners and the moon reflecting off the gently rippling water.

"There's something you need to know before I take you home, Credence," Percival started, then quickly elaborated, seeing Credence's worried look. "It's nothing bad. Well... your foster mother would have thought so, but it's really not."

"Oh." Credence looked rather upset. "Are you... are you living in sin with someone?"

Percival laughed. "No, Credence. I live on my own. Well, I did until now." He smiled and flicked Credence's nose.

Credence gave a startled little yelp, then returned his smile, blushing but looking relieved; the boy was so very easy to read, it was almost terrifying.

"If... if it's that your place is small, I don't take up much room," Credence said. "I can sleep on a sofa, or on the floor—"

"Sweet Merlin, no!" Percival said, aghast.

Credence blinked.

"You'll have a proper room of your own. It's been a guest room until now, but I hate having guests and never invite anyone, so we'll change it to your liking and make it all yours." Percival shook his head in disbelief. "As if I'm going to make you sleep on the floor!"

"I don't want to be any trouble."

"You won't be, Credence. Goodness gracious, I imagine a mouse would be more trouble than you," Percival told him playfully, delighting in the small smile this elicited.

They arrived at the fountain. "Well, maybe it's best if I just show you my dark secret. This might be a bit of a shock to you but, I promise you, there's nothing to be frightened of."

Credence watched him eagerly, if nervously.

Percival looked around—there was no one nearby, but he cast a simple wandless and silent concealment charm, just in case. Then he retrieved his wand from his sleeve and aimed it at the gently rippling surface of the water. He whispered a spell: something harmless and a little showy.

Credence looked on in horror at the first sight of his wand, but then his gaze moved with the way Percival flourished it to raise a thick spiral of water straight in the air in front of them, splitting into half a dozen separate streams about six feet up in the air. They all hung suspended for a moment before arcing back down to splash into the fountain.

"Oh my God," Credence whispered. "Percival, you... you're a witch?"

"Wizard." Percival turned to face him, concerned about his pale face. Despite his concern, he thought he might as well get it all over with at once. "And I have a feeling you are as well, my boy." Credence stumbled a little, and Percival took his arm and directed him back against the side of the fountain.

"How do you know?"

"Well, for one thing, you have magical birth parents." Percival smiled. "Furthermore, I felt an intense spark of magic when our hands touched." He cringed internally. George Jacobs, couldn't he have thought of a better way to say that?

Credence clearly hadn't noticed his wording. He was breathing quickly, no doubt trying to get his mind around this and deciding what he thought of it.

"Contrary to what you've been told, Credence, magic is a beautiful thing. You'll learn all about it, including how to use it. I'll show and teach you everything."

Credence looked at him with the strangest expression then, making Percival fear for a moment that he was about to run away, but he surprised him. "You'll really teach me magic, Percival?"

Percival smiled. "Of course. You'll be living in our world, among other wizards and witches. You'll see magic everywhere. You'll have a wand. You'll study spells and charms and things you can't even imagine. You'll like it, Credence, I prom—"

Credence had pushed off the edge of the fountain and threw himself at him so suddenly, it knocked the breath out of Percival's lungs. The boy clung to him with both arms around his neck, and Percival was helpless to do anything but fold his own arms around Credence; both his words, and his train of thought, had been cut off by the enthusiastic reaction.

Percival had never been one for physical shows of affection, and people he knew avoided even putting him in a situation where a handshake was required of him. Credence, despite being closer to him than anyone, part of him in fact, knew practically nothing about him. He was acting purely on instinct.

Percival wondered if he was acting purely on instinct too, when he tightened his hold on the slight form, stroking his hands slowly up and down Credence's back under his coat. The boy was so thin, and felt so fragile in his arms, yet for all that he had clearly been starved of everything from food to affection, his instinctive trust and faith that Percival would take care of him made him determined to do just that. He would not let him down.

"Credence," he murmured, close to his ear, and felt the boy shiver. "Keep hold of me like this. I'm going to get us home now, but we're going to travel by magic, okay?"

"Okay," Credence breathed, not moving an inch, nor asking for clarification, but trembling a little.

"It'll be strange, but quick. Keep your eyes closed until you stop feeling dizzy."

"Yes, Percival." Credence pressed himself even closer, his face in the crook of Percival's neck, warm breath caressing his skin.

Percival took a couple of steadying breaths. Apparating this way would be easier on Credence the first time, but not on himself; that was certain.

In a swirl, they left Lower Manhattan to reappear in the living room of Percy's penthouse on the Upper West Side. There was a brief tingle of magic from his wards, recognising him and allowing Credence in because he was with him, not to mention a blood relative.

Credence made a sound half distress, half surprise, but kept clinging to him as instructed.

"Take as long as you need to feel steady on your feet," Percival said, still holding him close. "Apparition is pretty rough the first few times."

Credence moved his head up and down in a nod, which caused his nose to brush along the side of Percival's neck.

Percival tried to take a deep, calming breath. He moved one hand up to cup the back of Credence's head and keep it still, eliciting a soft sigh from him. The dark hair was incredibly soft between his fingers; the boy must have lost his hat somewhere between hugging him and apparating. Percival felt decidedly dizzier than usual after apparition himself, and he was glad the living room was dark, only outlines visible due to distant city lights and the gentle glow of the waxing moon above Central Park.

They stood, clinging to each other, in perfect silence and soothing darkness for some time. There was only their breathing, and the muffled sound of wind sweeping over the building and around the pillars on the rooftop terrace.

"Still dizzy?" Percival questioned, suppressing a touch of panic creeping up on him. He should let go of Credence now. He should.

"Yes. A little." Credence's voice trembled, marking the words as a blatant lie and the boy as an inexperienced liar.

"Really?" Percival drew back a little, fingers sliding through Credence's hair.

"Maybe... I may be okay now," Credence said with obvious reluctance. He met Percival's eyes and, dark as it was, the shine of his own, standing out like chunks of coal in the whiteness of his face, was shocking.

"Credence," Percival whispered around the lump in his throat.

Should he voice what was happening between them, and why they couldn't let it? No, Credence had to know it as well as he did; in fact, thanks to his religious upbringing, the idea was bound to be associated with threats of hell fire and brimstone in his mind. Maybe the only thing to do was to pretend there was nothing worrying happening here at all. Yes, that would be best. They just needed to get used to this new situation, to their sudden, intimate and yet not, new relationship. They were likely both merely confused and hopelessly out of their depth.

"Let me show you around," Percival said, with all the strength he could muster.

"Okay." Credence allowed himself to be pushed back gently but firmly. He took off the coat, Percival's coat, and it was taken from him.

Percival clung to it as if it was a lifeline. He quickly spelled a few lights on around the apartment, and the living room fireplace too.

"Oh." Credence looked around in awe. "It's beautiful."

Percival gave him a shaky smile, still feeling as flustered as Credence looked. "Let me take you on a proper tour, to make sure you like it all."

They walked through the large open living room, the dining area and the kitchen containing gadgets Credence had never even dreamed of, and which he assumed were magical. He trailed his fingertips over a few items of furniture, simply because they looked so lovely and luxurious. Warm wood and deep colours were off-set by chrome and gold-tone decorative items, geometrically perfect mirrors and works of art ranging from landscapes to male nudes.

Credence blushed, quickly averting his eyes from the nudes. He took in a mini bar in the corner, the elaborate radio and gramophone on a sideboard, a cigar box...

"Is something wrong?" Percival asked, noticing his gaze lingering.

Credence bit his lip. "I was just wondering what ma... sorry, I shouldn't call her that anymore... Mrs Barebone would have said about this room."

Percival scoffed. "Too many sins all in one place? Too many frivolities? Good thing her opinion doesn't count for anything anymore, isn't it?"

Credence met his eyes. "Yes," he said firmly.

"Are you very religious?" Percival asked him.

"I've tried to be."

"Did it take?" Percival couldn't help teasing him.

"I thought so, but she always told me I was doomed to be a sinner, so maybe not."

Percival chuckled. "That's my boy." When Credence looked at him wide-eyed, Percival cleared his throat and said, "Well, let me show you the rest of the place."

Credence followed him down the corridor, where Percival hung up his coat and Credence's jacket, leaving him in a short-sleeved white shirt. He peered past Percival into the biggest, most lavish bathroom he had ever seen, with a bath big enough to qualify as a plunge pool and a shower large enough to host a small cocktail party.

"Everything is so big!" Credence couldn't help himself.

Percival laughed. "Wizarding space. This is quite an ordinary penthouse but, as with most wizarding residences, the internal space has been magically extended."

"Oh. That's..."

"Decadent?" Percival guessed.

"I was going to say 'useful'."

Percy blinked. "You constantly surprise me, Credence."

"In a good way?" Credence asked with a charming smile.

"In a very good way." Percival couldn't stop looking at Credence when he smiled, but when the boy swayed towards him, Percival quickly moved past him.

"This is your room," he said, opening the door opposite the bathroom, spelling the fireplace and a wall lamp alight, and then motioning for Credence to proceed him inside.

"Oh, my God," Credence said, hand coming up to cover his mouth.

"You don't like it," Percival said, crestfallen. "We can change absolutely everything about it, really. You can have it any way you—"

"I love it," Credence quickly intercepted. He clutched at Percival's arm, but only briefly. "I'm sorry, I was overwhelmed. This is bigger than the whole church was, and so beautiful. I've never seen a bedroom like this."

Percival's face lit up. "Well, it's all yours. As it is, or with any changes you'd like."

"I wouldn't dream of asking you to change it. Thank you so much, Percival." Credence moved as if to hug him again, but quickly dropped his arms and knotted his fingers behind his back.

"You're very welcome." Not wanting to let Credence see that he regretted the aborted gesture, Percival turned and left the room again. "For the sake of completeness, I'll show you my bedroom too."

Credence followed him, peering over his shoulder with great interest when Percival opened the door.

Percival set the fireplace here blazing as well, and lit the candelabras on the bedside tables with a wave of his hand.

"This is like a room in a castle," Credence said, awed.

Percival had to admit, it was certainly the most lavish and old-fashioned room in the place, with its exorbitantly wide four poster bed, canopy and all, and its vaguely Medieval decor. To Credence, it probably looked the most likely room to be associated with Witchcraft.

"I suppose it is a bit over the top," Percival said, smiling at him.

Credence looked shocked, as if afraid he'd caused offence. "No, I didn't mean that. It's just so elegant and luxurious. It..." He averted his eyes, quickly taking a couple of steps towards the fireplace, holding his hands out towards it. He said very quietly, "It suits you so well."

"Thank you, Credence." Percival watched the way the fire warmed and softened Credence's pale skin and his perfect profile. He wondered whether he was really still too cold, and then he suddenly remembered, "Oh, Mercy Lewis, your hands! I need to heal those. Here, let me see again." He sat down on the large wooden chest at the foot of the bed, directly facing the fireplace, and patted the spot beside him.

Credence shuffled over and sat down. "With magic?" he asked cautiously.

"That's right. Some of the older scars might need a salve, or a potion, maybe even a professional healer, but I can certainly do something about the more recent ones." Percival held out his left hand, palm up, and Credence lightly placed his right on top of it the same way.

The boy watched breathlessly, at first possibly with fear, as Percival traced the fingers of his right hand over the torn skin. When it began to knit together, he gasped. Amazingly, it took only three passes and every single scar had vanished.

"That's extraordinary. I'm not usually this proficient at healing. It must be due to us being so close—" Percival stopped, and Credence met his eyes. "So closely related," he quickly said. He repeated the treatment on Credence's other hand, where it was equally successful. "Ha. I was sure some scaring would remain."

Credence was staring at him in amazement. "I had no idea magic could do things like this," he said, sounding awed.

"Well, you had no way of knowing. There are a lot of wonderful things you can do with magic, but I won't lie to you, Credence, there are also bad things. It's a powerful, potentially dangerous, and potentially wonderful, tool."

Credence gave him a searching look. "Have you done dangerous things, Percival? And bad things?"

Percival considered a half truth, but the boy had every right to know. "I hold a senior position in a very important wizarding organisation which tracks security threats to the magical population in this country. I order and oversee many missions in the fight against dark wizards, and I've had to order severe punishments." He could tell, just looking at Credence, that he didn't need to clarify.

"Does that mean you're often in danger yourself?" Credence asked anxiously.

"Sometimes," Percival admitted, but he wanted to alleviate his anxiety. "Credence, I've done this work for years, and I have a lot of experience protecting myself and others."

Instead of reassuring the boy, this seemed to upset him. He averted his eyes, glancing towards the fire.

"Credence?"

"And now you have another responsibility. Someone else to protect and distract you from looking out for yourself." Credence sounded miserable.

"Hey, no no no." Percival drew him close with his arm around his shoulders, and Credence immediately dropped his head against the side of his neck. "Don't think like that, sweetheart. Now I finally have a good reason to look out for myself, because someone I really care about needs me."

Credence had inhaled sharply at the endearment, and he exhaled slowly when Percival stopped talking. He hesitantly wrapped his arms around Percival's middle.

"Please do, Percival," he said softly. "Please look out for yourself."

"I will, Credence, I promise." Percival used his thumb and index finger to separate strands of dark hair at the boy's temple and pressed a kiss to the tender skin.

Credence's breath stuttered and morphed into a small whimper, and Percival closed his eyes and had to work on keeping his own breath steady.

"That feels nice," Credence said in the softest whisper.

"Does it?" Percival asked, just as softly and against his better judgment.

"Hmm." Credence turned his head a little, raising it off Percival's shoulder, then tilted his face up to meet his eyes. His lashes fluttered as he fought to hold eye contact, more used to avoiding it as a rule.

Percival raised his left hand to caress the top of Credence's cheek, just the tips of his fingers tracing the smooth skin, which looked dewy in the firelight. He leaned in, watching Credence's eyes flutter closed, and let his lips brush the crest of his cheekbone. And then, because he couldn't help himself, he kissed the hollow beneath it.

Credence's breath was a shivery, barely controlled struggle between the need for air and the hope of not breaking the spell they were under. His hands at Percival's waist were the same—loose and careful, not daring to move or tighten.

Percival might have prayed for a sense of wrongness to overpower his need to keep caressing the boy's velvet skin, to hear more of his shuddering little gasps, but praying was too foreign a concept to him. His lips had nearly reached the plush mouth, and he closed his eyes to not see the terrible temptation that it was, hoping it would help him resist.

Credence turned his face, catching Percival's lips on the corner of his mouth and, even though it was not quite a kiss, his sudden need for air overwhelmed his caution then, and Credence opened his mouth with a gasp.

The sweetness of the sound, of Credence's breath, washed over Percival's lips, and he parted them to catch more of it, even as he pressed the centre of his forehead against the side of Credence's and, for a long, electric moment, they breathed warmly against each other's mouths, from the side, lips not touching. The lure was nearly unbearable.

Percival slid his index and middle fingers over Credence's parted lips, creating a barrier, if an uncertain one.

"Credence..."

The boy was panting, drawing in air with audible difficulty. He murmured a near silent plea Percival could feel against his skin like a kiss.

"We can't," Percival forced himself to say, even as he moved his fingers gently from side to side, caressing the lips he did not dare kiss. He cursed softly under his breath, fighting for the strength to put some distance between them, even just another inch or two. Enough to give him room to breathe air not Credence-scented, to think a thought other than how he hungered for this boy. His boy.

Credence's cat-like eyes fluttered closed, then opened again to look at him pleadingly.

"My boy. _My_ sweet, sweet boy," Percival began to chant softly, desperately, in an attempt to remind himself that yes, this was his boy, his flesh and blood.

Credence whimpered, and Percival recognised his mistake. He was fulfilling every need the boy had, just as Credence was doing for him.

"Da—" Credence began, and Percival only just managed to turn his hand and cover his mouth.

He laughed silently, a little wildly. It was really just a series of huffs of air. "We need to go to bed now," Percival said, continuing before he could think too hard about that. "We need to get some sleep and, tomorrow, we'll sort out all the paperwork, and then everything will be okay. It'll all be more real, and this will seem..." He drifted off with a sigh.

Credence drew the strong hand off his mouth, covering it where it came to rest against his jaw line. "Are you sure?"

Percival held his eyes. "I hope so, Credence."

* 🌙 *

They both spent a restless night in their adjoining rooms, making sure to avoid running into each other when visiting the bathroom during the night or fetching a glass of water.

One time, Percival heard Credence's bare feet padding down the corridor to the living room. He couldn't keep from visualising the boy in the black and red striped pyjamas he had lent him; he wondered if he was sitting on the sofa, long legs tucked under himself, newly healed hands tracing with interest over the smooth leather lounge suite, bound to be unlike anything he had known before.

Maybe Credence was out there to try and sleep further away from him. He was tempted to go and make sure he had a blanket, but he knew the feeble excuse to go and see him for what it was.

With a grunt, he turned on his side, closing his eyes and trying to conjure up a harmless, relaxing mindscape which would send him to sleep at last.

Credence, in the living room, did trace his hands over the leather sofa as he walked around it, but he didn't sit down. A single light had been left on, and he visually examined every object in the room, pausing for a long time in front of the nudes on the wall. This time, he did not avert his eyes. Ma had always claimed that such art enticed people to sin, but she had said so about most things. He could only imagine what she would have to say about a man whose collection of paintings included nudes exclusively of men.

He flushed with his own, inevitable conclusions, and tried not to feel sad that his own conception had clearly been a mistake. An accident. Instead, he tried to take comfort in the fact that his father was like himself but, with a shivery breath and a deepening flush, he abandoned that train of thought as quickly as he could. Or, at least, he tried to.

He continued his night time wandering to the wide glass doors looking out over the terrace. He stood there for some time, pressing his overheated forehead and cheeks, by turns, against the cool glass, as he looked out over the city. He had never seen it like this—a sea of dim lights far below and in the distance, on the other side of Central Park. The park itself was a sea of deep green, with silver highlights courtesy of the moonlight.

When he finally stood back, he guiltily wiped the smudges off the glass with his sleeve and returned to his room. Another half hour of an interminable night gone, and so many hours to go.

Later—maybe an hour or two later, it was Percival who entered the living room, disheveled and with his pyjama top undone. His bed was an oven, though he knew well enough that it had nothing to do with the actual temperature. He had already cast several cooling charms on both the room and himself.

He made a visit to his mini bar for a whisky, no ice. He let it burn his throat as a punishment for the thoughts he couldn't suppress. He considered a cold shower, but scoffed at the idea; he'd be heating the water on contact with his skin.

He rinsed the empty glass, then contemplated a selection of books in hopes of finding something he could read until he fell asleep. He decided none of them would hold his attention like the vision of dark eyes fluttering closed and plump lips parting under his own, and decided that a sleepless night was the very least punishment he deserved for that.

His track back to his bed was interrupted when his wayward eyes flicked to Credence's door and he paused in front of it, tracing his fingers over the carved wood and even, for a moment, over the door handle, before quickly pulling back.

It was then that the handle moved and the door opened, and Credence peered out at him.

Percival swallowed hard, taking in the tired eyes and the disarrayed hair. He badly wanted to run his fingers through it again.

Credence didn't say a word, he just let his gaze move over Percival's half-exposed torso, shadowed in the gap of the open pyjama top, before guiltily meeting his eyes. His fingers were wrapped around the edge of the door, clinging to it.

Percival's eyes scanned over his hands and dropped down, noting how the slightly too short pyjama pants showed off Credence's fine-boned ankles and long, narrow feet; the toes curled under his gaze, and he was utterly charmed. When he looked up again, caught by the way Credence's chest rose and fell, he took in his collarbones—prominent and exposed by his top, which was not buttoned all the way up. His gaze caressed the long neck, worshiped the prominent Adam's apple, and swept tenderly over the tempting mouth and flushed cheeks, before meeting his eyes again. He would fall into those eyes, be swallowed up by their darkness, if he did not leave now.

Credence did not come out into the corridor, but took a step back into his room and, for an instant, Percival was relieved that one of them had the strength to retreat. Then he realised Credence wasn't retreating. He was opening the door incrementally wider, his eyes fixed on Percival's. It was an _invitation_.

Percival's heart thudded against his rib cage, and he had already lifted one bare foot to step closer and accept Credence's invitation, when he stopped, closed his eyes and sighed, before giving the boy a gentle smile and shake of the head. He turned, resolutely walking onward and closing his bedroom door behind himself without looking back.

A short while later, as Percival lay with his forehead pressed into his pillow, his back arched, and his fingers clawing at his silk sheets, thrusting furiously against the unyielding mattress, he tried to think of anything but pale skin, soft gasps, hair and eyes like night, and lips like rose petals. He failed, coming all too soon with a gasp of "Credence" on his lips. Afterwards, he felt guilty and miserable.

But at least he had not accepted the invitation.


	3. My Star

Percival was woken up by morning sunlight prying his eyes open mercilessly. He groaned and turned his face away, knowing he must have fallen into a doze some time near morning, after all. It had never occurred to him to close his drapes during the night.

He crawled out of bed and wandered out to the kitchen to get started on making breakfast. Halfway there, he changed his mind and diverted to the bathroom. A shower might clear his head, wake him up, and maybe even relax him a little.

Once he was clean—externally, at least—he dressed in dark grey trousers and a white shirt, leaving out the matching waistcoat, suit jacket and a lilac tie until after breakfast.

Then he went to the kitchen and set about starting to prepare the meal by way of magic. Once eggs began to poach themselves, the grill was heating, the kettle filled itself with water, and the bread started to slice itself for toasting, it was time to see if Credence was awake.

He opened the door to the guest room quietly, then promptly wished he had stayed away.

Even from the doorway, he could tell the boy's night had been at least as restless as his own. The duvet was half on the bed, half on the floor, held in place only by long legs clamped around the corner of it. Credence was hugging a pillow to the side of his face, and the pyjama top, which he'd buttoned up askew—Percival noted with a wry smile—had ridden up. He tried not to think about the fact that, when he'd seen him during the night, it had been buttoned up the right way. Unfortunately, the pants had slipped halfway down Credence's hips, too lose on him, and left a sharp hipbone exposed, along with a barely there dark trail of hair from his navel to... thankfully, the elastic hadn't shifted quite as low as that.

Percival retreated, leaning back against the once again closed door and taking a deep breath. He didn't trust himself to go back in, but it was too impersonal to just call out to Credence from the corridor, on his very first morning in his new home, no less. In fact, being his first morning...

Percival returned to the kitchen and finished making breakfast. He set a tray on the kitchen table, then charmed a kitchen towel into a cloth napkin, and arranged a few miniature jars of different jams and jellies around the plate. He poured a glass of orange juice and a cup of strong Irish breakfast tea, adding milk. He arranged toast slices in a fancy rack. And then, he scooped the poached eggs, grilled tomatoes and bacon rashers onto the plate, before adding a drizzle of red plum sauce. Then he charmed the whole lot to stay warm.

At the last moment, he transfigured a spoon into a thin, tiny vase, and a sprig of rosemary into a white rose, cut the stem of it very short to fit, and added it to the corner of the tray. He felt a little foolish, but unable to resist.

He re-entered the guestroom, sighing when he saw Credence had not shifted, and deliberately approached the bed from the side _not_ affording such a beautiful view. He charmed the tray to hover beside him and gently touched the boy's shoulder from behind.

"Credence, time to wake up," he murmured, then repeated it a little louder. When a soft sigh and a change in breathing pattern told him he was waking up, Percival added, "Breakfast is ready."

Credence raised his head a little and, when he didn't see Percival, quickly sat up, and the pyjama top mercifully dropped down to cover his stomach. He turned to look back over his shoulder.

"Oh. Good morning." He shifted around until he faced Percival, tugging the duvet back onto the bed properly. His eyes were still unfocused. His right cheek, which had been pressed into the pillow, was flushed, and his hair on that side stuck to his head; he looked adorable.

"Good morning." Percival's voice was husky with affection. Deciding not to mention the incredible number of hours they had both spent awake during the night, and instead concentrating on the fact that Credence too had managed to get some sleep in the end, he said, "I hope you dreamed something nice. The first dream in a new place is meant to come true."

Instantly, Credence's entire face was awash with redness, and Percival cleared his throat. "Or so I've heard, anyway."

Credence opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it. Then he noticed the levitating tray. "Oh, Percival!"

"I thought you might like breakfast in bed, as it's your first morning here." Percival smiled. "If you don't like what I made, I can get you something else."

"I'm sure I'll like it. Thank you so much," Credence quickly said, looking at him wide-eyed, "but what about you? Did you already have breakfast?"

Percival chuckled. "Can you believe I forgot? I'm not very hungry, don't worry about me."

Credence shook his head. "Have some of this, please. It's far too much for me."

Indulging him, Percival said, "Well all right, I might steal some of your toast."

Credence beamed. "I've never had breakfast in bed." He shifted back against the headboard to sit upright.

"Then it's high time." Percival arranged the tray on top of Credence's lap, then sat down on the edge of the mattress.

Credence looked bashful. "I think it's going to take me a while to get used to your kindness." He nibbled on his lip.

"Sweetheart," Percival said softly, covering his nearest hand on the duvet. "I think it only fair to warn you that I intend to spoil you rotten." He smiled at Credence's dropped jaw. "I have years to make up for, after all."

"You don't have to make up for anything, Percival."

"I think I do. What's more: I want to," Percival said with determination, squeezing the slim hand. "I want to, and I will."

Credence smiled. "Okay."

"Okay?" Percival smirked. "You'll indulge me?"

"Okay, yes." Credence laughed softly. "Anything you say... Percival."

Percival knew, even without Credence's guilty blush, that he had contemplated saying something else, just for a moment.

It was then that Credence took his first proper look at everything on the tray and, when he noticed the flower, he just stared at Percival for a long moment. Then he picked up the small vase, sniffed at the rose, and closed his eyes with a smile.

Percival watched his blissful expression, his heart clenching at how easy it was to make Credence happy with the smallest gesture of affection. On the heel of that thought came the anger that, for 22 years, he had known no kindness or affection, and the idea that someone, _anyone_ , could mistreat this sweet, charming boy filled him with such resentment, he had a wild stray thought of digging up that Barebone woman and using her sorry skeleton for Necromancy.

Credence must have noticed a change of expression with his dark thoughts. He looked worried. "Percival?"

Percival did his best to smile. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, I got lost in thought."

"It can't have been a pleasant thought."

Percival stroked Credence's cheek, touched by the way he leaned into the caress. "I was thinking about how much I wish I could have been bringing you breakfast in bed, giving you flowers, and putting those sweet smiles on your face all those years."

Credence covered the hand on his face with his own, stroking it lightly over Percival's knuckles. "To know you wish that makes everything... from before... worthwhile. I never knew I had anything to look forward to, until you."

A painful lump formed in Percival's throat. "Credence." He knew he sounded choked. "I never expected anyone to ever tug at my heart the way you do."

When he saw Credence's lovely eyes fill with tears, he hated himself for getting so emotional. He gave a self-deprecating laugh and tried for lightness. "You know, if you asked my colleagues, they'd tell you I don't have a heart."

Credence took Percival's hand off his cheek and held it between both of his. "I know better."

"Yes." Percival interlaced his fingers with Credence's. "You know better."

Credence looked deep into his eyes, and Percival could not escape the spell he found himself under for the longest time. Finally, he took a deep breath. "Your breakfast is getting cold." It wasn't true, thanks to the warming charm, but it was a white lie purely for the sake of his sanity.

Credence ate most of the hot food, but insisted that Percival share a few bites of it at least. Then he examined the jams, choosing cherry—just like for dessert the night before, and Percival made a mental note that it was a favourite—to cover the slices of toast.

Percival watched him cut the toast up into strips, then blinked when Credence held one up to him. He let himself be fed, chewing while Credence ate a strip himself. They worked their way through the toast like that, with alternating strips, and Percival resisted the temptation to close his lips over Credence's fingers each time he slid the bread into his mouth. What he could not resist doing was to use a finger tip to catch a little cherry jam in the corner of Credence's mouth, then lick it off his finger.

Credence looked at him in such a way that Percival's throat went dry, all in a moment. He rose off the bed and retreated a couple of steps. "I'm going to leave some clothes of mine in the bathroom for you," he told him, as conversationally as he could manage. "They're a little tight on me, but they should fit you fine. We'll go shopping for clothes after we deal with the paperwork, I think."

Credence looked ready to protest again, probably to say Percival shouldn't be buying him a new wardrobe, but he remained silent. There was, after all, no option. And he didn't want to embarrass Percival with his shabby old things either. "Okay," he merely said, climbing out of bed as soon as Percival took the tray off his lap.

"Take your time and have a nice hot shower, and don't feel guilty about it, do you hear?" Percival said, lowering his heavy brows with a mock stern expression.

Credence smiled at him. "I'll try not to."

* 🌟 *

Percival had just finished a floo call to his favourite tailor when Credence joined him in the living room, skin still flushed from his shower. Clearly, he had done as he'd been told and indulged.

Percival did his best not to devour him with his eyes. The boy looked fantastic in one of his shirts and pinstriped pairs of trousers—held up, to be on the safe side, by a snazzy pair of red suspenders. Percival made a mental note right then to make sure there would be a lot of red in Credence's new wardrobe.

He knew he had been caught staring when he found Credence looking at him from under his lashes, blushing, so he quickly said, "All ready to go out?"

There was a moment before Credence nodded. "Percival, where are we going for the adoption?"

"To the agency first, but there'll be other things to do at the Ministry where I work, because you haven't lived in the wizarding world until now."

"Do you mind?"

"Mind?" Percival noticed the slight frown.

"Suddenly having a son. Is it a problem, at your workplace?"

Percival snickered. "There's gossip aplenty already, ever since the stork two days ago."

Credence's expression was utterly comical, as was the croak in his voice. "Stork?" He sat on the armchair nearest the fireplace ottoman on which Percival was perched.

Nodding, Percival told him, as seriously as possible, "Your letter was forwarded to me by stork post. You see, wizards communicate by owl post, though eagles, falcons, pigeons, etc are used as well, but when something concerns a child or an adoption..." His words slowly drifted off as he watched Credence hang on to his composure by a thread.

When the boy began to laugh, absolutely helpless with mirth, he couldn't help it. He joined in. "I know, it's quite ridiculous."

"I'm not a baby," Credence gasped between giggles.

"You certainly aren't." Percival's heart was dancing as merrily as Credence's sparkling eyes.

How could this enchanting creature be the son of a stern-faced, work-obsessed loner like himself? On the face of it, it seemed impossible; maybe there’d been some kind of administrative error? The thought momentarily filled him with mingled hope and sadness. No. He felt, deep down, that wasn’t the case; and he knew the true explanation, if he was honest with himself. He was that man because he’d never had anyone like Credence—someone who would give him a reason to smile and be happy, to hurry home in the evenings because he couldn’t bear to be without him another minute. Someone who should have been with him for the last 22 years, damn it.

Maybe then, they wouldn’t be in this predicament now; surely, they wouldn’t be. And Credence wouldn’t be such a terrifyingly familiar stranger. He wouldn't be his every dream come true, walking into his life and showing him all the things he needed and wanted and _couldn't have_.

"Are you all right, Percival?" Credence asked, looking anxious.

"Sure I am," he said unconvincingly, trying for a smile which was almost painful. Then he stood and said briskly, "Shall we get ready to go out?"

Credence nodded, though he looked as reluctant as Percival felt.

* 🌟 *

They were fully dressed—Percival in his favourite blue coat, Credence wearing a light grey one big enough for him to get lost in, when Credence spoke again.

They were in the front entrance, by the coat stand, and Percival was about to double-check the wards on his door.

"Percival..." Credence seemed to be thinking hard about whatever he was about to say. He looked genuinely worried. 

"Go on, Credence, you can ask me anything."

Credence still looked worried, and his words came out haltingly. "If you... if you didn't adopt me..."

"You don't want me to?" Percival asked, his heart sinking. He leaned back against the wide door jamb.

"Oh no, I do. Really, I do." Credence sighed. "I want to share your name." He blushed and looked down. "I want to be your family, but..."

Percival waited patiently and somewhat anxiously.

"If you didn't, and if... if nobody knew... would it make a difference?" Credence's fingers were twisting in the lapels of the borrowed coat, tugging at the fabric as if he was drawing it close against cold weather. He looked as if he hoped he wouldn't have to explain further.

And he really didn't. Percival's heart rose back up and right into his throat. "We'd still know, Credence, you and I," he said gently. "We are who we are, and everything else is just a formality to make everyday life easier. There are so many advantages you can enjoy, bearing my name. Besides, whatever you do in the wizarding world, your origins will become known, because you're essentially joining the magical community for the first time. In my experience, we're at least as fond of paperwork as No... as non-magical people."

"Oh," Credence said. "I see."

"All else aside, you'd be stuck with that Barebone woman's name," Percival added in disgust.

"I know, but... I wouldn't care about that. It means nothing to me," Credence said, stumbling over his words. "I wouldn't care at all, if to keep it meant that... that..." He took a shuddering breath, thoroughly distressed now, all the while looking longingly into Percival's eyes.

"Come here." Percival couldn't bear to see him like that. He reached out with both arms, and Credence moved forward, pressing himself against him with a sob.

"Merlin, what a pickle we're in," Percival mused. He closed his eyes, his cheek against the side of Credence's head, while the boy sobbed into his coat collar. Percival's hands were under the coat, on Credence's back, and the lithe body was shaking in his embrace. He stroked up and down along his back and sides, thumb catching on a suspender, trying to soothe him and not notice the warmth of his skin through the thin shirt.

"I'm sorry," came Credence's muffled apology. His breathing was uneven, his tears subsiding already, as if the mere touch of Percival's hands was making everything right.

Percival sighed. "None of this is your fault, sweetheart."

"It must be, somehow," Credence insisted weakly.

"Not at all. Fate has delighted in bringing us together at last, only to play a very cruel trick on us both."

Credence lifted his tear-stained face and looked at him. "You really do feel it too? Please, tell me. I need to know."

Percival swallowed. The plea in those beautiful eyes, framed by thick lashes shimmering wetly, was too much. "It won't make us any happier to put it into words."

"It will. Please, Percival."

Percival couldn't stop his eyes from roaming over the lovely face. "Oh sweetheart, I've felt it since the first moment I saw you."

He had barely finished speaking when Credence whimpered and surged forward, mouth pressing against Percival's, fingers grasping his coat collar. Percival's head was tipped back against the door frame, and he gave a surprised grunt. His lips parted, and Credence didn't waste a moment to fit their mouths together better.

Against the eager, gasping heat of the lush red mouth trying to devour his, Percival had no defence. Not anymore. He groaned, his grip on Credence's waist tightened, and he returned and took charge of the kiss, pulling Credence as close as he could get him.

Sweet, hungry moans like little demands threatened to melt every bone in Percival's body.

_Gods, they had to stop. They had to stop this at once._

Credence's mouth was heaven. He tasted of minty toothpaste and yet, somehow, still a touch of cherry. Most of all, of desperation and need. He had started the kiss, and yet he yielded to Percival's exploration in every way, letting his tongue be caressed, his soft wetness be tasted.

Percival was lost, knowing it in so far as he could know anything at that moment, because to think was impossible. Every fibre of his body wanted... _needed_ Credence to be his, to belong to him in every possible way. His fingers dug into his sides, eliciting a little grunt.

"Sorry," he gasped into the sweet mouth. "I'm sorry."

"I don't mind." Credence pulled and yanked at Percival's tie, then gave up and just pressed his lips to what he could reach of his neck.

Percival's eyes closed, one hand grasping the back of Credence's head, the other ineffectually trying to divest him of his coat. Credence wouldn't stop touching him long enough for Percival to get him out of his coat, and he could only drag it off one shoulder. While Credence's fingers struggled with the buttons of Percival's waistcoat, Percival drew the suspender off the same shoulder, frustrated beyond words that none of it gave him access to more of Credence's skin.

Credence lavished attentions on Percival's Adam's apple with his lips, tongue and, very gently, teeth, and Percival groaned out loud. The boy managed to get his waistcoat open, and pushed his tie aside to work on the shirt buttons. Finally he'd slipped half a dozen out of their button holes, only to hit the barrier of Percival's undershirt.

Credence gave an annoyed grunt, which would have amused Percival under any other circumstances. His slim fingers kept pulling and tugging at his shirt until he managed to drag it out from Percival's waistband.

And Percival did the same to him, tearing at Credence's shirt, and the clothes were loose enough on him that it came out from behind the trouser belt easily. When Percival's hands pushed under it, the first touch to the boy's warm, smooth skin felt as blissful to him as to Credence, whose knees buckled as he moaned out loud.

Percival pushed forward, pressing him into the opposite door jamb, one thigh between his to keep him from sliding down. The hard weight of Credence's cock, through two layers of wool, slid over the top of Percival's thigh, and he was powerless to do anything but return the pressure, moving his thigh rhythmically against the bulge while growling possessively against Credence's neck.

"Oh God... _God_!" Credence panted in husky gasps, his fingers clawing at Percival's belt loops, tugging at his trousers. He was in too much of a daze of pure want to figure out how to undo the belt, so he just willed it to happen.

And then it did, unsnapping and breaking the buckle, which fell to the floor beside them with a clunk.

They both looked down, stunned, at the remains of the belt dangling from the belt loops.

"What—" Credence gasped.

"Wandless magic. Well done!" Percival took his face between both hands and kissed him again, feeling rather than hearing the disbelieving little huff of laughter escaping Credence.

Distracted from his display of wild magic once more, he tugged Percival's trousers open, by hand to avoid damaging any more of his wardrobe, and finally managed to sneak a hand between the layers of Percival's underthings, knuckles brushing hot skin and wiry hairs.

Percival shivered under the awkward, searching touches, left hand sliding around the back of Credence's neck to keep their lips connected, right hand clawing at his waistband, pulling him back into the earlier rhythm of sliding over his thigh, flexing against the hard heat of him.

Credence whimpered, clamping his thighs around Percival's, pushing and thrusting against it, while Percival released his mouth to kiss the underside of his chin. He chewed on the side of his neck, nipped at the lobe of his ear, and licked at the shell of it until Credence was mewling and trembling all over.

"Please, please... your hand..." Credence snapped his hips with desperate little thrusts, crying out when Percival let go of his trousers and slid his hand between Credence's bulge and his own thigh, squeezing and kneading through the layers of cloth. Credence's soft cry at that shook Percival all the way down to the soles of his feet.

"Fuck," he gasped, inhaling sharply when Credence's questing fingers roamed up beneath his undershirt. Short nails scrabbled at the lightly haired skin around his navel, hooking behind his underwear and pulling... pulling.

Percival released Credence just long enough to help him push down the elastic, letting the boy deal with things once he was exposed down past his hipbones.

"Percival," Credence whined into his ear, his long fingers questing downwards next, sliding behind cotton and clawing at rough hair on the way to finding what he sought.

"Yes, fuck! Baby..." Percival growled low in his throat when the grip around him remained hesitant for only a moment before tightening. It was as if Credence's hand on him was pulling every muscle from his body, and he sank to his knees, unable to keep himself upright.

Credence followed him down in a mess of disarrayed clothes, still rocking on his thigh, pressing as close as he could get without being forced to relinquish Percival's cock, slippery now and throbbing in his grasp.

It would take no time at all before it was all over, and Percival tried to bare as much of Credence in time as he could. He pulled the loose shirt up, tugged open his belt and trousers, and shoved them down. Then he pulled them together, forcing Credence's hand from in between them for the sake of rubbing his cock over Credence's belly and the dark hair at the base of it. There was no time to completely free him from the confines of his underwear before it all became too much.

"Credence," Percival groaned, thrusting against him, hands sliding down inside the back of Credence's underwear, over the perfect globes of his arse. The boy's belly was covered in Percival's fluids, and he was sliding through them with ease, the sensation erotic in the extreme.

"Feels so _good_ ," Credence mewled, thrusting back against him, shimmying a little until the tip of his cock slipped from behind the top of his underwear, red and dripping, nudging against Percival's length. He kept thrusting against him in little incremental movements, chanting, "Please, please... daddy!" until he came, explosively, but with a soft, almost surprised cry of joy.

Percival growled, his hands squeezing the plush flesh under them, his climax rushing through him all in a moment, like water from a burst pipe, sputtering over Credence's stomach and belly, dripping down on his half exposed, still twitching, cock and marking his boy as his own.

Percival was shaking, pressing his head down on Credence's shoulder. His hands moved up the narrow, sweat damp back, holding him tight, while he broke down and sobbed into Credence's shirt.

"Shh, it's okay, daddy," Credence whispered soothingly and half out of breath, stroking Percival's hair. "Everything's okay now."


	4. My Universe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's no playlist as such for this story, but I wrote the last chapter under the influence of Santa Esmeralda's luscious, sappy, sexy [You're My Everything](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YPaHOVYNyQs), which is a favourite of mine for this pairing.

They lay in a tangled heap of coats, half-undone clothes, and sticky skin, for a long while. By some unspoken agreement, they kept close, touching and petting each other until they could stand. They still leaned on each other while putting themselves back together, but discarded the coats this time, staying in shirt sleeves. Obviously, going out right then to sort out Credence's adoption, or shop for his new wardrobe, were not in the cards.

"Credence..." Percival murmured, once he'd cast several cleaning spells and they were both as fresh as they'd been just after their morning showers.

"Please don't say you're sorry." Credence's eyes were soft, but there was a strain of worry in his face. "Please don't. I'm not."

"You're not?" Percival searched the sweet face for the truth of the words and found it. "Do you think you will be tomorrow? A week, or a month, from now?"

"No, I won't." There was no hesitation in Credence's voice. He leaned in and laid his head on Percival's shoulder, sighing contentedly when his father's arms closed around him at once.

"I have no idea what to do now, Credence," Percival admitted. The words felt strange in his mouth. He was in control of magical security for the entire country, and not once had that presented him with any kind of conundrum as the one he was facing now. Dealing with the unexpected had never been a problem for him. Now... his certainties were shattered, the broken shards spread out at Credence's feet and, in the midst of them—his beating heart.

Credence's voice, soft as it was, cut through the fog in his brain like a beam of light. "What do you _want_ to do?"

"Is it that easy?" Percival asked, wondering whether, perhaps, it really would be best to follow Credence's lead now.

"Yes, I think so." Credence's voice sounded firm. Certain. He sounded the opposite of Percival now, as if _his_ uncertainties and _his_ broken shards of a former life had been gathered up and lovingly mended into a new, blissful whole.

Percival decided to trust him and let him mend them both. He closed his eyes and said exactly what was on his mind. "I want to not be sensible today. I don't want to organise anything that can be put off for a few days, and I don't want to see anyone but you."

"I like your plans so far," Credence said, making Percival laugh a little. That made Credence smile, and he was still smiling when Percival tipped his head up by his chin and looked deep into his eyes. He swallowed hard at the warmth in Percival's eyes and the huskiness in his voice.

"Look at you, sweetheart. You look so happy."

"I've never been happier." Credence's voice was almost a sigh. He looked soft and sensual and adorable.

"I want to..." Percival licked his lips, but he couldn’t continue.

"Do you want to hold me and kiss me?" Credence whispered. When Percival nodded, he went on, his cheeks growing pink. "Do you want to... make love to me, daddy?"

Groaning, Percival leaned forward until their foreheads touched. "Yes, baby, yes I do."

"I want that too," Credence said, looking pleased when Percival took a shuddering breath. He took Percival's hand to draw him down the corridor.

Once through the doorway to the bedroom, Percival took the lead, pulling Credence towards the bed.

He spelled the fire alight again, and the heavy blue drapes closed, shutting out a world which would decidedly not approve of what they were about to do. Then he went to sit on the side of the bed, and Credence stepped between his parted legs.

Percival looked up at him, marvelling at how determined he looked. "You're certain, sweetheart?"

"Yes." Credence smiled and stroked Percival's hair. "Are you?"

Percival reached for Credence's other hand and pressed a kiss to the palm. "I'm certain that I love you, Credence." When the boy gasped softly, his eyes shining, he said, "I love you so much more passionately than a father _should_ love you, but also so much more sweetly and softly than any lover ever could."

Credence's smile had not left his lips, and his eyes were smiling too. "It's a good thing you're both, and that I love both sides of you equally."

Percival was speechless for a few moments. He caressed Credence's cheek, cupping it. "How did you get to be so wise and yet such a rebel?"

"Good genes, but a bad upbringing." Looking satisfied that he had stunned Percival with that, Credence undid his father's tie and shirt—more slowly, and thus more successfully, this time—then opened his trousers; Percival had got rid of the devastated belt along with their coats.

"Your turn," Percival murmured, sliding his fingers down the front of Credence's shirt, which obligingly unbuttoned itself. His trousers did the same.

"You didn't do _that_ before," Credence pointed out, watching in amazement as his clothes simply fell open.

"I couldn't have remembered my own name before, if you'd asked me, let alone used focussed wandless magic." Percival smiled. "Unlike you, my miraculous boy."

Laughing softly, Credence said, "I have no idea what I did to your belt."

"We'll figure that out, along with everything else." Percival reached up and manually drew the one suspender which had remained in place off Credence's shoulder.

"Yes." Credence shrugged out of his shirt, then pushed down his trousers and underwear while Percival's eyes roamed over his delicate collarbones, his narrow shoulders, slender but lightly defined arms and marble-white torso, perfect creamy thighs, and a long, slender cock framed by dark curls.

"You're unspeakably alluring."

Credence blushed, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. "Really?"

Percival met his eyes. "I would never lie to you, sweetheart." He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the centre of Credence's chest, feeling his heartbeat under his lips and smiling at his soft sigh.

He removed his own shirt and undershirt, shoes, socks and trousers, with Credence helping and watching his every movement and every inch of revealed skin.

"Percival," Credence whispered, drinking in the sight of him, adding nothing but a breathless, "Oh." His hands caressed the broad, lightly haired chest and shoulders, fingertips fluttering over strong arms, then over a narrow waist and firm abdomen, while his eyes dropped lower. He blushed. Then he pressed both hands on his father's chest and pushed. He looked triumphant when he managed to overbalance him onto his back.

"Are you going to pin me down and have your wicked way with me?" Percival teased.

"Yes," Credence told him, then added with a little smile, "but I might need some instructions."

"Are you completely untouched?" Percival asked, lingering guilt creeping into his voice, along with an intoxicating possessiveness.

Nodding, Credence said, "I'm glad I am. I wouldn't want to give myself to anyone but you, daddy."

Percival drew in a deep breath, caressing his cheek. "Good. You're all mine, baby, even though I don't deserve you, not even after 40 years of waiting for happiness."

"No more waiting now," Credence said, and his voice shook despite the certainty of the words, almost as if he was afraid of his own courage. "I love you so much, daddy." He leaned down and kissed Percival, whose lips softened and parted for him at once. Credence explored his mouth, licking and caressing and sucking the tip of his tongue the way Percival had done to him earlier, until he felt him grow hard against his groin once more. Now, with both of them gloriously naked, there was nothing dulling the sensation, and he gasped for breath.

"You learn quickly." Percival was panting, his hands on Credence's shoulders, his thighs clamped around the boy's hips.

"Teach me more, daddy," Credence urged, delighting in the answering moan, nuzzling against his neck, chewing playfully on his shoulder, pressing small kisses everywhere. "Teach me everything."

"Everything?" Percival gasped. "Are you sure?"

Credence peered up at him, his chin resting on his chest. "If you keep asking me that, I'll have to figure it all out on my own."

Laughing, Percival wrapped his arms around him and rolled over him, smiling down at the parted lips when a surprised 'oof' escaped them. He shifted them both further up the bed, moving Credence's slight body easily along with his own as they slithered over smooth satin and fine linen. Then he pressed down against him, and decided at once he needed to see that overwhelmed fluttering of lashes, accompanied by a soft moan, every day and every night.

Percival kissed his way down the boy's body, worshipping his fragile perfection from his mouth over his neck, the centre of his torso, lingering over his navel as he flicked his tongue tip over it, causing a sharp exhalation which had not yet finished when his hand closed around the flushed, pink-tipped cock digging into his stomach.

"Oh!" Credence craned his neck to watch what Percival was doing, but he was still taken by surprise when his mouth closed over the tip. "Percival," he gasped, reaching back blindly until his fingers could grasp one of the many blue and gold pillows, pushing it under his neck.

Percival gave him a look of approval, before sliding his mouth further down the shaft, tonguing it all the way down.

Instinctively, Credence parted his legs further around him, and Percival caressed his inner thighs. He hummed approvingly at the first taste of the boy's fluids, and his tongue flicked more rapidly, his cheeks hollowed with more intense suction, and he let his fingers wander, caressing the smooth orbs between Credence's thighs.

"That's..." Whatever it was, Credence didn't get to tell him, distracted and gasping when Percival's index finger traced the rim of his hole. "Daddy?"

Releasing the treat trickling steadily over his tongue, Percival smiled up at him. "Would you like my fingers inside you, baby? Or my tongue?"

"Inside..." Credence gulped. "Your... your tongue?" he squeaked.

"My pleasure," Percival purred, intentionally mistaking the expression of disbelief for Credence's choice. He only felt guilty about it for a moment, because when he slid his hands under Credence's arse, tilting him up so he could tongue the rosy opening—tightly clenched at the moment—Credence let out a shivery, and very encouraging, moan.

Credence's fingertips were on his scalp, sliding through his hair, not pulling him closer or pushing him away, just stroking lightly. "Oh, daddy."

Percival spared a thought for that hell Credence had been lectured about, knowing he would end up there if it actually existed, but he couldn't help how hard it made him to hear Credence gasp or sigh or moan that word. He thrust into the bedding just as he managed to make the boy relax enough to allow his tongue tip inside his body.

Going out of his way to slurp obscenely at the tender, wrinkled opening, Percival watched an already familiar, and much loved, blush spread over the beautiful face and halfway down Credence's chest. He reached around the leaking cock, temporarily abandoned against Credence's belly but, to his surprise, his hand was covered and stilled.

"Please, daddy, I want to make you feel good too," Credence murmured, voice thick with arousal and sending a wave of pleasure through Percival.

Percival gave him a heated look from between his legs before he began to shift, lifting Credence's right leg over his shoulder and re-arranging his body to be upside down alongside him.

"Do anything you like to any part of me you can reach," he offered, his voice deep and warm.

Credence bit his lip, nodded, and reached to stroke his right hand up Percival's thigh. He lowered his gaze, peering at him from under his lashes. "I don't think I can reach to do... that." He flushed. "I want to."

"Sweet Merlin," Percival whispered, his cock thumping against his belly. When Credence noticed that, a slow smile tugging up his luscious lips, Percival nearly came just from that, and he had to reach down and tighten his fist around himself painfully hard. 

Credence slowly moved his right hand between Percival's thighs, nudging lightly to let him know he wanted them parted.

Percival could only obey, neglecting Credence's pretty, saliva-wet hole while the boy decided what to do to him. He watched him assess the position, fingertips lightly tracing the tip of his cock, eyes widening when they came away wet and sticky. Meeting Percival's eyes, he licked his fingers.

"Credence..." Percival moaned. "Please, baby, anything you want."

And Credence kept licking, sucking his fingers all the way into his mouth, two of them, slurping and wetting them thoroughly. He was still holding his gaze when he moved his fingers between Percival's legs, seeking out his opening and nudging at it as if he was knocking against a door.

Suppressing his amusement, Percival did his best to relax, but it was still something of a shock when Credence pushed both fingers into him at once. He grunted in surprise and discomfort.

"Sorry, daddy." Credence looked distressed. "Too much?"

"Just a little, baby. Start with one finger. Or... wait, hold them out to me."

Credence did, and Percival smoothed his own hand over Credence's, murmuring _Lubricus_ as he did so. Credence's eyes widened when Percival released his fingers, which were now slick and glistening. "May I try again?" he asked breathlessly.

Percival nodded and, this time, Credence started less ambitiously, sliding his index finger very, very slowly into him.

"That's better," Percival breathed. Credence's cock twitched in front of him at the sound of his voice, reminding him to get back to what he'd been doing. He spread the firm cheeks in front of his face, smoothing his left hand up the firm underside of a raised thigh, and returned to licking and probing the pink opening.

Credence, even as he shuddered and gasped, started to slide his finger in and out, figuring out quickly that little rotations widened the channel more quickly. By the time he had two fingers inside Percival, the tongue squirming inside his arse had been joined by a single finger too, and his stomach dropped at the idea of how open and obscene he must look by then. He peered curiously at his own handiwork, and at the way Percival's channel clenched around his questing fingers as if to suck them further in. He began to piston them rhythmically—in and out, in and out, slickness squishing around and between them, making the rim shine wetly.

Much as Percival hated to disrupt his feast, he gasped out encouragement. "Credence... that's perfect. Keep that— Merlin's balls, keep that up, I beg you."

Credence had the audacity to giggle, but he did as he was told, managing to even when Percival slid two fingers deep inside him. But when he crooked them, the pressure on Credence's prostate made him groan wantonly.

"Can you come like this, baby?" Percival smirked at Credence's heavy-lidded gaze and his mouth opening and closing like that of a fish on dry land. "Can you come on my tongue and my fingers? I want to watch your pretty cock spurt as you do."

"Ah... daddy, you're so... so..." Credence squirmed, which intensified the pressure of the two fingers inside him. "Yes, daddy, I can! But I... I want you to take me."

Percival groaned, resting his forehead on Credence's thigh. He nuzzled it, kissing and nipping at the warm, sticky skin. "Next time you come. I want you to be as relaxed and open as possible, so I won't hurt you."

Credence nodded. He was wild-eyed, fighting for control, but he returned to fingering Percival's hole, watching the way it widened under his finger thrusts and intense scrutiny. "Does it hurt very much? Being taken?" he gasped.

"Not if done with care, and I'll be so careful with you." Percival gazed up at him from between his thighs. His voice was low and gravelly. "I'm going to make you feel so good, sweetheart."

Credence held his eyes and nodded. His flushed cheeks and shining, red-bitten lips were unspeakably tempting, and Percival returned to licking into him, stabbing his tongue inside as far as it could go; his boy was so open by that point, gaping and just waiting to be filled. He squeezed the tight globes of his arse, then wrapped his forearms around the slim thighs, and thrust and thrust and thrust his tongue rapidly.

And Credence's fingers slipped from him, clutching the sheets as he arched his back. "Uh, daddy, I... _Oh!_ "

When his voice cracked and he tensed all over, Percival's tongue retreated, replaced at once with two thrusting fingers while he watched the hard, leaking cock twitch and bounce, shooting in long, white arcs over Credence's stomach and chest. He kept thrusting his fingers into him, closing his mouth over the tip to catch the last spurts. When they stopped, and the boy fell back like a puppet with all the strings cut at once, whimpering, he did _not_ stop finger-fucking him.

"Too much," Credence gasped.

"Are you sure?" Percival's voice was deep and rough. "You don't want to come again just yet?"

Coughing a little husky laugh, Credence squirmed around his fingers. "Don't think I can." And that was when the probing fingers nudged his prostate again, giving him a jolt. "Nnuh!"

Chuckling, Percival gave him a few shallower thrusts, then another nudge. "Come on, baby, you can get hard again for daddy."

Credence whined. His hair was sticking to his forehead in damp, sweaty strands, and his eyes were glistening. He met Percival's challenging gaze with one of his own, if more unfocussed and glassy, as his own fingers returned to probing and thrusting into him.

"If I do, may I take you, daddy?"

Percival's eyes widened. "You surprise me."

"May I?" Credence held his eyes, fingers sliding in and out quickly—not painfully, but at odd angles, shaking and uncoordinated; they were too slick and slim to feel anything but wonderful anyway.

Percival 's voice reflected that. "Yes, baby, anything you want." 

Percival rearranged them again, moaning at the loss of those exploring fingers. He reached around Credence's middle to draw him on top of himself until the boy's wet, no longer quite limp cock was trapped between them. Like this, he could easily spread Credence's cheeks and keep sliding the fingers of his right hand in and out of the gaping hole.

Credence looked down at him adoringly, squirming with over-sensitivity but willingly enduring the deep strokes. He closed his eyes for a moment and all but purred when Percival smoothed the damp hair back from his forehead.

"You're so beautiful, sweetheart," Percival whispered, awed. "You're even more beautiful when you're so turned on. You're glowing."

Credence smiled and nibbled on his bottom lip, then leaned in and kissed him, and Percival's hand pressed down on the small of his back, holding him close to deepen the kiss. By the time he released him, Credence's lips were swollen and redder than ever, and he pressed them to Percival's neck, before trailing little kisses down over his chest. "You smell so good," he murmured against Percival's right nipple, then tugged at it with pursed lips.

Arching into the caress, Percival gasped, "What do I smell like, baby?"

Credence smiled up at him. He licked the hard nub with firm, long strokes of his tongue until it glistened, taking his time. Only then did he answer, "Manly, and spicy and... like home."

Percival gave him the softest look. "I love you, baby."

Credence tilted his head, rubbing his cheek over his father's heart. "Love you too, Percival." He shifted, nudging against Percival's groin.

"So hard again already?" Percival asked huskily, feeling a little triumphant. "See, I told you."

"Hmm. I want you, daddy."

Both hands firmly on Credence's hips, Percival gazed up at him. "I did promise, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did." Credence tried to thrust against him, but Percival's hands held him immobile. He gave a little grunt.

Percival closed his hand around Credence's cock, whispering the lubrication spell again, smiling at the mewl of pleasure.

"Lift up a little," he instructed, and Credence immediately obeyed, and Percival rolled over onto his stomach underneath him and pressed his cheek into the pillow, his legs spreading under Credence's hips.

He couldn't see Credence's expression, but he felt his hands, tracing down his back on both sides, not quite close enough to his sides to tickle. He felt them dip and smooth over the rise of his buttocks, felt Credence shift backwards until he knelt over his thighs. He listened to his deep, heavy breaths as the boy contemplated his course of action.

"You don't have to, if you're not..."

Shaking hands parted the cheeks of his arse, the exploring fingers returning to reacquaint themselves with his still widened, slick hole, thrusting in and out a few times until Percival began panting. "Credence... baby..."

"You look _so_ good, daddy," Credence almost hissed the words, and then he moved his fingers faster, and faster, reducing Percival to low groans and gasping breaths. And then he withdrew them.

Percival felt the sudden emptiness like the most profound solitude, but then Credence pushed into him, slowly and carefully, but with little nudges and jerks of his hips which belied his impatience.

"It's okay, baby, go ahead. You won't hurt me."

"Sure, daddy?" Credence asked, even while he couldn't stop himself from thrusting.

"I'm sure. I want to feel you." 

Credence moaned as he slid all the way inside, making a surprised sound as if the sensation was wholly unexpected.

Percival groaned into the pillow, the fact that this was Credence taking him even more overwhelming than the physical sensations themselves. "You feel so good in me, baby. You're doing so well." Percival muttered encouraging nonsense, nudging back against the pressure until Credence whined.

Then he began to rock into him in earnest, trying to go slowly at first, but it didn't last. "Can't hold on for long," Credence panted. "I'm sorry, daddy, so sorry."

"It's okay, baby." Percival clawed at the sheets. "I love that you want this so much."

"Oh, I do, daddy." Credence leaned forward, his hands holding onto Percival's shoulders, his lips pressing desperate little kisses to his back and shoulder blades.

Percival adjusted, arching his back and raising his hips so Credence wouldn't slip out, and the angle was all at once perfect then. "Fuck," he gasped. "Just like that, baby, you're wonderful."

Credence's breath stuttered, but his movements smoothed out, kept steady and rhythmic with Percival's aid. The tightness and heat of the channel enclosing him was too much too soon, but he kept thrusting until the last moment, crying out when he came—deep, deep inside Percival, continuing until he grew too soft and slipped from his father's body.

Percival was so close, Credence's release very nearly pushing him over the edge this time, and he was just wondering if he would last long enough to flip their positions and take his boy when the lovely weight on his thighs shifted even further down his legs, holding them together.

"What are you doing, baby?" he mumbled, half into the pillow.

Credence, instead of answering verbally, petted his left arse cheek lovingly, then the right, and when Percival was about to turn on his side to look over his shoulders, they were held apart by slim fingers, and along with the sensation of wetness seeping from his hole, he felt the hesitant probing of Credence's tongue.

"Baby, are you..." His cock throbbed violently, because yes, he was. Credence was slurping at his own come as it poured from his hole, humming as if he was enjoying himself immensely. "Credence... you're... oh, baby, you're unbelievable."

And Credence, not interrupting his licking, petted the backs of his thighs then, and Percival came, soaking the sheets in his own release.

* 🌌 *

They dozed for a while, Percival having only managed to stay awake long enough to murmur quick cleaning spells and roll on his side, drawing Credence into his arms to hold him tight. The boy ended up half on top of him, limbs wrapped around him and, when Percival woke up, it was to find Credence looking at him tenderly, a soft smile on his lips.

"Hello, sweetheart." Percival smiled back at him, reaching up to wrap a strand of the boy's black hair around his finger.

"Hello, daddy."

Pressing soft, sweet kisses all around the plush red mouth, Percival only kissed the lips when they shaped into a pout, then said, "You're a wild thing, aren't you?"

Credence blushed, which made Percival laugh huskily. "You've had your tongue inside me, lapping up your seed, and you're blushing at being called a wild thing?"

Credence groaned, pressing his face into Percival's neck. "You looked so good like that, I couldn't help myself."

Percival held him even tighter. "Don't be embarrassed, my sweet. You're amazing. Beautiful. Exciting. Brave. Won—"

"Stop, daddy." Credence giggled.

"I hope you don't think I'm joking about any of that." Percival waited until Credence met his eyes, and the boy looked truly amazed.

"You're not?"

Percival shook his head. "I absolutely adore you, sweetheart."

Credence gave a little whimper, then kissed him, clinging to him, and Percival returned the kiss enthusiastically, deepening it in moments. He kneaded a slim thigh when the boy hooked his left leg over his hip, and found him hard against his groin.

"You're insatiable," Percival growled, nudging his half-hard cock up against Credence's. It wouldn't take him long to catch up, he knew.

"I can't get enough of you." Credence pressed into him, sliding hard over Percival's groin and belly.

"Same, baby." Percival's right hand took hold of Credence's nearest arse cheek and squeezed, using it to pull him up and closer. "Want me to take you now?"

"Yes," Credence gasped. "Yes, please."

"Do you think you can take my cock, after I've tormented you for so long with my fingers?"

"Yes, daddy." Credence rubbed against his chest, licking up against his neck. "Make me yours."

Percival groaned. He buried the fingers of his left hand in Credence's hair, raising his head so he could look into his eyes. The boy's pupils were dilated, and he imagined he looked much the same. "You _are_ mine, Credence."

"Yes, Percival," Credence breathed.

Percival quietly acchio'd a healing salve from the bathroom, which would double as a gently warming lubricant. He squirted a generous dose against Credence's hole, then breached him again, pushing the salve inside; he was still loose, open... so warm. "Whose are you?" he demanded, voice husky. He pushed in two fingers at once, slowly, delivering the salve more deeply into the well used channel.

Credence closed his eyes, sighing with pleasure, clearly aware now of the different sensation, the gentle tingle and sweet scents of calendula and lavender combined both soothing and arousing.

"Who do you belong to, baby?" Percival scissored his fingers, while twisting his wrist gently from side to side. "Tell me."

"Uh... you, daddy. I belong to you."

"Good boy," Percival crooned, rewarding Credence with a gentle nudge against his pleasure spot, shushing him when he cried out. "Sweet, beautiful boy."

Credence was clinging to him. "Your boy, daddy."

"Mmm, that's right." Percival's fingers were pistoning in and out of Credence's hole by then, avoiding his prostate after that initial nudge. He didn't want Credence to come again until he was inside him. "I'm going to sit up, baby. Hold on to me." When Credence did, arms around his neck, he rose to a sitting position, arranging Credence over his lap. "Lower yourself down now, sit on my cock."

Credence was shivering, obeying with trembling legs.

"Slowly, not all at once. I don't want to hurt you." Percival had a firm grip on his hips.

"You wouldn't," Credence protested, but he obeyed, mewling when he slid down on the hard length inch by inch, waiting to adjust now and then, and continuing down.

"That's it. Nice and slow." Percival murmured praise and encouragement against the long neck. "You feel so good, baby, so hot and still so tight. Think you can take all of me?"

"Ye— Yes," Credence stammered, proving, right then, that he could.

Percival groaned when Credence's full weight was in his lap, his channel tight and slick around him. 

"Uh..." Credence clung to him like a limpet, open mouth panting against his shoulder.

"Mmm... baby." Percival stroked down the narrow back, the curve of Credence's arse, squeezing hard enough to lift him a little, eliciting a soft moan. He pressed his cheeks together, tightening Credence's grip on him that way, when he lowered him back down. "Fuck!"

"May I... may I..." Credence was completely incoherent, trembling in his lap.

"Bounce?" Percival suggested, smiling at the puff of laughter against his shoulder.

"Yes, daddy."

"Go on, baby. You're mine, but I'm also yours. Use me." Percival leaned back just far enough to reach up over his shoulder to the top of the headboard.

Credence was staring at him, eyes shining and darker than ever. And he started to move. Up and down, slowly at first, wincing slightly at Percival's size, then faster the more the healing salve took effect and the more Percival's cock slicked his passage.

"That's it. Do you like how I feel inside you?" Percival let his eyes roam the flushed face, lingering on the dark eyes opening and closing, and the way Credence drew his bottom lip between his teeth whenever he sank down just the right way.

"So good, daddy." Credence leaned forward, trying to kiss him while continuing to bounce up and up, and made an annoyed sound when Percival's cock slipped out of him.

Chuckling, Percival pressed Credence's arse back down, guiding himself back inside. Then he drew up his knees, as a support behind Credence's back.

Credence moaned, the new angle nudging him just right, but it was so distractingly good, his movements became uncoordinated and jerky. His eyes turned pleading. "Daddy... could you maybe... use me instead?"

Percival closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I'd love to, baby." He had barely finished speaking before he flipped them over, his weight pressing Credence into the bed, his cock sliding in to the hilt.

Credence groaned, long legs wrapping around his hips, and held on as Percival started to thrust into him, any hint of restraint gone. "Mmm... yes... that's so good!"

"You like it this way, do you, baby?" Percival growled.

"Yeah."

"Do you like it when I get a little rough with you?" His thrust came faster, shallow and deep by turns.

"Uh..." Credence shivered all over.

"When I show you that you're mine? That you're all I want? Everything I need?"

"Oh, daddy, daddy, please!" Credence clutched at him, fingernails digging into the firm flesh of Percival's back, not deep enough to draw blood but enough to leave marks.

"You want me to own you, baby, don't you?" Percival pressed hard into the soft, clinging body, gyrating his hips until Credence whimpered and mewled.

" _Yes!_ " Credence squeezed his eyes shut, flustered and embarrassed by his noises, by the wet, slapping sounds of their bodies sliding into each other. He cried out when Percival's teeth nipped at the side of his neck, moaned when the bite was soothed by his tongue. 

"Tell me what you want, baby," Percival urged, kissing the underside of Credence's jaw, licking up against the lobe of his ear. "What do you need, more than anything?"

Credence shuddered at the tongue playing with his ear, jolted at the way Percival angled his next few thrusts. "Want you, daddy. Need you. Need to belong..." He sobbed. "Need to belong to you!" 

"Shh," Percival soothed him, a couple of tears sliding down his cheeks too. "I've got you. Sweet Credence. Beautiful boy. You do belong to me." He kissed the gasping red mouth, licking and tasting and drinking from it until they were close to running out of air. "You _always_ will."

Credence whimpered, clutching onto him, muffling his cry of completion against Percival's neck as he spilled between them.

Percival managed a few more thrusts before his strength left him, and he filled Credence to the brim, while murmuring "I love you" against every inch of skin his mouth could reach. At last, he went limp in his boy's embrace.

Credence held him close with a contented sigh. "Love you too, daddy, so much."

Percival nuzzled into his neck. "You're my whole universe, Credence."

Credence snuggled into his arms, shivering lightly as his skin tingled for a moment before being left fresh and dry. He fell asleep soon after, with the smile on his lips pressed to Percival's chest.

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/sweetsorcery) and [Dreamwidth](https://sweetsorcery.dreamwidth.org/). Feel free to drop me a message anywhere. :)


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